


And the Award for Best Power Couple Goes To...

by Sophie_skates_reads



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Androgynous Yuri Plisetsky, ISU Awards, It's bad, M/M, Nonbinary Yuri Plisetsky, Not Beta Read, Quarantine, Real figure skaters, figure skating references, i hate eteri, like seriously, this is shit, unveiled social figure skating commentary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_skates_reads/pseuds/Sophie_skates_reads
Summary: I just watched the ISU Awards.Madison Chock and Evan Bates were adorable. What if that were Otayuri?Or:Yuri and Otabek are nominated for the ISU Awards during quarantine, and Yuri accidentally outs their relationship on live TV.
Relationships: Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 18
Kudos: 101





	And the Award for Best Power Couple Goes To...

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, suffice it to say that I just finished watching the ISU skating awards, and, seeing Madison Chock and Evan Bates’ dynamic on-screen was adorable. This happened.
> 
> (Also, Yuzu! I’m so glad he got the Most Valuable Skater award because if he didn’t, the ISU would be getting some furious letters. And Nathan Chen’s hair? I can’t. I love it, and I just can’t.)
> 
> Yeah, so this is an unbeta’d mess. I literally wrote it, chucked it through Grammarly, then uploaded it. It’s shit, but it was fun.

“This is stupid,” Yuri muttered from the couch, slumped against the cushions and looking thoroughly unwilling to be doing this. “Why do we have to give fucking interviews? We’re not fucking facetiming-- can’t they just find a picture and slap it on the screen and we can go on our merry way?”

Otabek, in the kitchen of his small flat in Almaty, rolled his eyes. “They’re trying to keep it as close to normal as possible,” he reasoned, “last year we were able to accept the awards in person-- we’re not getting out of the speeches just because we’re stranded on separate corners of the earth.”

“God, that’s true,” Yuri grumbled again, watching Otabek make tea through the open floor plan of his apartment. “The ISU will never be stopped. Fuck me if an earthly force will ever succeed in bringing it down.”

“Well, that’s not fair. I fuck you anyway, so that isn’t saying much.”

Yuri turned pink. The ‘fuck you’ on his lips was withheld as he pulled himself from the couch and slumped over to wrap his arms around his boyfriend.

The couple was currently living in Otabek’s cramped and tiny apartment in urban Almaty, conveniently working around the COVID ban on seeing people who one didn’t live with during quarantine. Yuri, true to his nature, refused blatantly to risk not being able to see Beka for months upon months (because normally they at least got together at competitions) and had hopped on a six dollar flight from Petersburg to Almaty a good five minutes before international travel became impossible. 

At nineteen, there wasn’t much Yuri couldn’t do, and leaving his grandfather for months on end (yeah, he felt pretty bad about that one) to show up on his long-distance boyfriend’s doorstep for an indefinite stay certainly didn’t fall into that category. 

“Whatever,” Yuri huffed, “why do we have to watch it, though? The awards are _so stupid_ this year. Kenjirou is nominated for Best Newcomer! What the hell is that about? He’s older than I am!”

Otabek chuckled, pressing a mug of tea into Yuri’s hand. “He only started competing internationally two seasons ago, not everyone had their _international senior debut at fifteen_ when they became old enough to enter the category. He’s doing well, cut him some slack.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, “Whatever. The fucking chicken nugget shouldn’t be nominated next to goddamn six-year-olds. How old is Kostornaia? Twelve? It’s sad that he’s up against kids.”

“She’s sixteen,” Otabek replied, though not denying that it wasn’t a little sad that a twenty-one-year-old was going for the same award as two sixteen-year-olds. “So is Trusova, and You, though she didn’t make the top three.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Yuri huffed, “if he’s competing against toddlers there’s an issue.”

Otabek tipped his head to that; he couldn’t really disagree.

Together, they moved back to the couch, settling in to watch the beginning of the awards together.

“You’re on soon,” Otabek said, nudging Yuri as his rant about the outcome of Best Coach grew more heated. “You need to change.”

“--And she’s fucking abusive! I’ve seen those girls, they weigh two and a half pounds! It’s not healthy: no wonder she has so many one-time champion fucking skaters, she fucking breaks them! Look what happened to Lipnitskaya, she got anorexia and retired at eighteen; Medvedeva left her for Toronto; Zagitova had a breakdown and took a season off; and even Trusova is going back to Plushenko! There’s obviously something wrong there and she _still_ gets Best Coach! Arg!”

“I know, I know, the woman is awful, I agree.” Otabek said, who was likewise infuriated by the fact that Yakov, Orser, _and_ Arutyunyan had been passed up for the award in favor of Tutberidze. It was fucking rigged, but there would be time to rant about that later. “But you’re on in like twenty minutes, you need to get ready.”

Yuri’s eyebrows furrowed and he glanced down at himself. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Otabek followed his gaze. Yuri had his hair done, curled lightly and cascading down his shoulder, was wearing a formal, genderneutral shirt, and, just below it, neon green shorts. Something didn’t add up.

“Uh, put on pants, maybe?” Otabek suggested, eyeing the tiny shorts before looking away pointedly. They most certainly didn’t have time for _that._

Yuri shrugged, “I don’t see why. They’ll only see my shoulders up anyway. Why bother?”

Otabek huffed a laugh, shaking his head bemusedly, but put his arm around Yuri, giving him a quick kiss. 

Yuri batted him away, “Stop it, you’ll fuck up my makeup. You need to move anyway-- down the hall, remember?”

Otabek sighed but nodded, grabbing his laptop and leaving the living room, turning the singular corner in the apartment to sit down at a desk they’d moved into the middle of the hallway, creating a neutral backdrop.

Best Choreographer passed quickly (why the fuck did she win?! Lilia was better!), as did Best Costume (she fucking better have won that! Mila did a goddamn costume change on ice-- no one had anything on her Firebird, least of all the Pig!), and soon the Lifetime Achievement Award was up.

“I swear to fucking God, if it’s Victor…” Yuri mumbled darkly from the living room, even if it was clearly audible from down the hall.

Otabek chuckled slightly as Victor’s face popped up on the screen, and he began dancing with an umbrella. 

“Are you fucking kidding me! No! No!! NO!”

And, after a musical break, Most Entertaining Program was up. 

Otabek’s screen blinked to life and he was live, his face staring back up at him from his laptop, accompanied by Yuri’s from the living room, and Zhenya Medvedeva’s from Japan where she was still stuck.  
The hosts and former ice dancers, Tanith and Charlie White smiled as the skaters’ faces appeared on screen. “--And congratulations to our finalists who are joining us now, I’d like to take a moment to say just how much I enjoyed your respective programs and how glad I am to have you all here!” Charlie said, grinning at the camera

“Thank you so much for having us, it’s a great honor to be here.” Otabek responded, nodding at the screen.

“Yes, it’s great to be here.” Yuri added, flashing a dazzling smile at the camera. Otabek couldn’t help but smile slightly as Yuri did so, and the live comments exploded.

Of course, Otabek and Yuri hadn’t made their relationship official yet, or, at least, they had yet to announce it to the world, but the fans were dedicated and crazed, so there were many theories circulating. Otabek and Yuri both knew that they wouldn’t be able to keep their relationship under wraps for much longer (they’d been doing it successfully for two years, and Otabek was honestly surprised that they’d managed it so long), but were hoping to keep their pseudo-privacy for a little bit longer by withholding the news.

Tanith began talking, asking Zhenya several things, before turning to Yuri to do the same. “As I’m sure you know, Yuri,” she began, “the program that has brought you here is your free skate: “Model”, and I wanted to ask you to go into detail about the process you went through to come up with it. I know you choreographed most of it yourself, and let me tell you, it shines through-- in the best of ways.” 

Yuri laughed good-naturedly at the comment. 

“I agree,” Charlie added, “this program is probably my favorite of yours, and you’ve said that it’s based on you, so can you tell us how you came to the point of creating it?”

“Yes, as you say, it is about me,” Yuri said, nodding, “as one of the painfully few openly trans and non-binary public figures out there, this story hit very close to home for me. It is essentially what I went through when I was coming to terms with my gender identity. What makes this program so different from any other that I’ve skated is that it dances on the border between masculinity, femininity, and androgyny.

“I went to great lengths to echo the common styles found in womens’ skating, mens’, and tried to merge it with something new, changing the choreography to reflect the back and forth I endured when trying to figure out who I am. The costume suggests it too-- with the longer, blousy top and the lavender headpiece. Even the skates were white.”

“Yes,” Tanith said, nodding and smiling at Yuri, “I think that struggle was what made your program so good. The pain and anxiety was palpable and it delivered a message that the world needed to hear. Personally, I was so glad to see someone representing the population that doesn’t conform to gender norms.”

Everyone nodded and Yuri smiled slightly. “I’m glad if it helped people.” He said, before closing his mouth as Charlie asked the next question.

“So, Otabek,” he began, grinning slightly, “Your program was also very different from your previous ones, can you explain it for us?”

“Of course,” Otabek said, taking a deep breath for what was to come. He could hear the screaming fangirls already. “Unlike many of my past performances about strength and perseverance, this one was about something more akin to tenderness, and the durability granted to one from being vulnerable.”

“Very interesting, care to elaborate on that?”

“Love.” Otabek said plainly, feeling his cheeks heat slightly as the Yuri onscreen rolled his eyes. The comments exploded into all caps shrieking and heart emojis. “Essentially, the strength given by love, and the way it changes your life.”

The hosts smiled, nodding between each other. “Can I ask if there is any _specific_ inspiration for that?” Tanith asked, grinning.

And Otabek, naturally, evaded the question as only one in the public eye could. Yuri looked like he was struggling not to laugh in the background; the commenters were dying.

“Lots of skaters’ inspirations stem from generality,” Otabek said, “innovation can be found in anything and everything in this world, so it would be fair to say that specificity scarcely exists anymore.”

Tanith’s smile faded slightly, but she nodded all the same, accepting the non-answer for what it was. “And now it’s time to announce our winner!” She beamed at the camera, “And the text from the jury says our winner is. . .” a drumroll was added, “Yuri Plisetsky!” 

The Yuri onscreen looked shocked, but recovered quickly all the same. Otabek smiled and clapped as Medvedeva did the same.

Otabek and Medvedeva were taken off the screen as Yuri began to answer the questions from the Whites directed at him. Otabek, grinning slightly, stood from his chair in the hallway and walked into the living room, standing behind the laptop Yuri was conversing with and giving him two thumbs up.

Yuri glanced up at him, flushed, tried and failed to hide a smile, and then motioned for him to leave with his hand, which was out of view of the camera. Otabek just barely contained his laughter as he returned to his post in the hall.

“And, finally,” Charlie said, smiling as the final category began, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for… Most Valuable Skater! Here we have our three nominees: Yuuri Katsuki,” Yuuri waved when his face popped up onscreen, “Yuri Plisetsky,” Yuri did the same, though he looked as though he was struggling not to glare at Yuuri, “and Otabek Altin!” 

Otabek just barely managed to suppress his smile at Yuri openly giving up his attempts and giving Yuuri the evil eye, as his camera lit up, and his face appeared.

“This award is given out to those who have not only succeeded on the ice but who have also grown the popularity of the sport through the media, their fanbase, and sponsorship attention.” Tanith said into the camera, “And can I just say that everyone here most certainly has done that! I’m so glad I don’t have to choose the winner here!” Everyone laughed.

“That’s right!” Charlie said, “Yuuri Katsuki, who has captured the hearts of many;” Yuuri blushed, “Yuri Plisetsky, who has perhaps more sponsorship deals and fans than any other skater besides the great Victor Nikiforov;” Yuri scowled, “And Otabek Altin, the Hero of Kazakhstan who has been supporting and gathering support for skating in his country. God, I can’t make this choice!”

The athletes laughed again.

“Well, I’d just like to thank you again for the nomination,” Yuuri said, “I’m absolutely delighted to be here.”

“As am I,” Otabek added as Yuri nodded, “I’m just happy to be considered.”

The hosts smiled at that (though what else could they do on live TV?) and began to pepper the nominees with questions.

“And, at last,” Charlie said,

“The most anticipated award of the night,” Tanith added,

“The most Valuable Skater award goes to…” Drumroll.

Everyone was tense on the screen, staring at the blank space where the winner’s name would unfurl in looping, golden font. 

“Otabek Altin!” 

Otabek let out a little gasp, stunned. Him? What did he do? Before he could get over his surprise and thank the hosts, though, a voice rang out from the living room.

“Yes! Go, Beka! I knew you’d win!” The Yuri on Otabek’s laptop was beaming, fist-pumping, and looking as happy as he would if he himself had won it.

Otabek and Yuuri both laughed, and Otabek thanked Yuri, though not before the comment chain started screeching about how _Yuri’s voice had come out of Otabek’s video._

And they were right. Yuri’s yell had been loud enough to carry quite clearly through Otabek’s speakers as well as his own, and, the hosts seeming to momentarily forget that they were supposed to be professional, they grinned knowingly at both Yuri and Otabek’s faces, the question already on their lips.

Yuri looked aghast, mortification etched into the lines of his face as Tanith asked, a mischievous glint in her eye, “There wouldn’t happen to be someone there with you, Otabek?” Both Yuri’s and Otabek’s eyes flicked incriminatingly to past the view of their screens, Yuri staring at the corner past which Otabek was hidden, and Otabek the same, to where he knew Yuri was seated on the couch. 

Otabek slowly stood from his desk, taking his laptop with him, and walking the length of the hallway before turning to corner to find Yuri, staring up at him from his position on the couch, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Beka,” he hissed, “what are you doing?”

Otabek just sat beside him though (Yuri had finally put on pants, thank God), setting his laptop on the coffee table next to Yuri’s, and pulled the blonde next to him. 

The comments collectively screamed. Yuri put his face in his hands. Otabek smiled.

***

“And now, announcing our next and newest category,” the announcer said from where she stood on the podium on the stage, quarantine finally lifted. “Best Figure Skating Power Couple!”

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who won?
> 
> Comments and kudos make me happy so leave them if you wish ♥


End file.
